


Existential Crisis

by cole_lit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, With a side of angst, because harry is an angsty grown-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cole_lit/pseuds/cole_lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Flowers and stars are the same: they still give joy, they still give life, even after their death.</p><p>"And you are no different, Harry Potter. Even now, after your death, you're still giving hope. You're still giving life."</p><p>(Where Harry questions his life after death and Luna answers with flowers and stars.)</p><p>A fic for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/D4tDCP">Challenge Pieces Prompt One: Missing "the" Challenge</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Existential Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge prompt number one: Any fandom. Write a one shot omitting the word "the". Response must be mostly in English and written in prose. Minimum 1000 words.

It was All Hallow’s Eve once more when Harry came to an awful realization, which shouldn’t have been a surprise since tragedies always struck during Halloween. But life has been good to him. ( _Or so he thought_.)

And why would he think otherwise when he’s married to Ginny Weasley - no, _Potter_. (She’s been Ginny Potter for three years now and he still can’t believe she married _him_ of all people.) And just this year, she gave birth to a _son_ \- to _their_ son, James Sirius Potter. A perfect combination of her looks and his... something because surely his son - _his son!_ \- must have inherited something from him. He’s Harry’s son, after all. (And Harry still can’t get over it.) But every time he looked at his son, all he saw were Ginny’s beautiful brown eyes, Ginny’s cute button nose, Ginny’s lovely red hair, Ginny, Ginny, _Ginny_. When Harry looked at his son, he saw _perfection_.

Unfortunately, James was not feeling well that evening, else he and Ginny would have come along for trick-or-treating in their neighborhood with Harry and Teddy. Harry would have stayed home as well, but he didn’t want to break his promise to his darling godson.

Dear sweet Teddy, his favorite godson (“Because I’m your _only_ godson, Harry!” he would tell Harry with a grin and a hug.), has been feeling left out with James’s arrival. With Harry all to himself, Teddy should realize that James was not replacing him in Harry’s life because he could never be replaced in Harry’s heart, in Harry’s life.

This Halloween tradition of theirs started right after Voldemort’s defeat when Harry needed a new perspective of Halloween, Andromeda needed a break from caring for her grandchild, and both of them needed a respite from their griefs and regrets. So Hermione (ever brilliant Hermione, how could Harry ever live without her?) suggested that he and Teddy go trick-or-treating in Godric’s Hollow. And so they went out dressed as wizards. (Very unimaginative of Harry but he had no time to think of a costume and his wizard robes were a kind of costume, right? Besides, he also needed a costume that would give him an excuse to put a hat on Teddy’s erratically changing hair and a baby-sized wizard hat was perfect. And adorable, as well.)

A year later, they went as werewolves (because Harry was still in-charge of their costumes and he had no imagination at all). And after that, they dressed up as vampires.

This year, Teddy wanted to choose their costumes and he chose to dress them both up as zombies since tradition dictated they wore matching costumes.

Harry felt uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare voice it out.

Turned out he didn’t need to because his godson was a precocious child (he must have gotten it from Remus) and pointed out, “You scared, Harry?”

“You think I’m scared, Teddy Bear?” he asked back teasingly. Teddy predicatbly pouted.

“Am not a bear! I’m a zombie!” he exclaimed. And because he was just as stubborn as his mother, unwilling to be side-tracked from what he wanted, he pointed out, “You look like Grandmum when Aunt Narcissa is gonna visit.”

“You think Andy is scared of her sister?” Harry asked, suprised at this new nugget of information about his adoptive grandmother.

“Kinda? I think she remembers bad things or sad things when she sees Aunt Narcissa,” Teddy replied. Harry shouldn’t have been surprised that Andy would think like that after everything they’ve been through. But he _was_ because Andy invites Narcissa for tea every week these past few years. He was surprised because she was braver and kinder than Harry expected.

“So why are you scared?” Teddy asked again, persistent like both his parents.

“Because zombies are scary!” he answered back with faux fear. Teddy just laughed at Harry’s fear, hugging his godfather’s legs.

“But zombies aren’t real, Harry! ‘Mione said so and you know she’s always right!”

But that was exactly why Harry was terrified.

. . .

Harry was surprised it took Ginny a whole week to finally confront him. Knowing her, she probably noticed his pulling away from her and James ever since that fateful Halloween. Motherhood must have mellowed her infamous temper. Or it kept her busy.

Either way, she found time (or made time) to talk to him about his issues. She even brought reinforcements - Ron and Hermione.

“Why have you been avoiding us, Harry James Potter?” Ginny hissed after she finally trapped him in his study. James’s sleeping form in her arms a vivid reminder of what he has been avoiding this past week.

Harry kept his mouth shut for fear of waking up his son, glaring at his wife and best friends for trapping him. (Though they all knew that if he was truly avoiding them, they would have never found him. He did learn something from his “seventh year”, other than stomaching Hermione’s cooking.)

“Something has been bothering you, Harry. We just want to help,” Hermione pointed out, calm and collected. “Besides it’s not good to bottle it all up, you of all people should know that. And haven’t we decided that there will be no more secrets between us?”

But Harry remained unmoved by their combined efforts. All his life, he has been manipulated, whether by logic or by emotion, to do others’ biddings. Now, he recognized these kinds of blackmails and he will not let himself be controlled like that again.

Ginny and Hermione must have recognized his intention to outlast them by sheer stubborness, judging by their changing expressions from calm to angered.

So Ron, who used to be so easily enraged and moved by his emotions, moved to drape an arm around his wife and another around his younger sister. He offered no words to convince Harry to talk, and instead offered a soft look of understanding.

_If you don’t want to talk, then I’ll stop them. If you’re not ready, then you don’t have to be._

And that convinced Harry to talk.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out in a harsh rush.

“How can you bring back someone who died?”

He heard them gasp, but he turned away from their pitying looks and judging stares.

“ _Harry_! You’re not planning-- You know it’s impossible! Not even Dark Magic can bring them back, only animate their corpses. As for th--em,” Hermione caught herself in mid-rant. Though they swore there will be no more secrets between them, that promise did not include Ginny, and some things were better unsaid, only existing in fairy tales where they belong.

“You know they’re not real,” she continued as if she didn’t stumble, most likely ignoring Ginny’s accusing glare at her side. “As much as we would love to bring them back, it is impossible. And more than that, it is wrong. It goes against magic. It goes against life.”

“I’m not talking about them,” cutting off Hermione because he can’t listen to her speak and prove his fears were not unfounded.

“I’m talking about _me_ ,” he finished softly, gathering up his Gryffindor courage to look at his family.

“If it’s against magic and life - if it’s forbidden - then _why am I alive_?”

And no one had an answer.

. . .

But just because no one among them had an answer doesn’t mean _no one_ could answer his question.

So later that evening, Harry was accosted by Luna.

“These are for you, Harry,” she said, offering him a bouquet of flowers, obviously hand-picked since he doubted that dandelions and other weeds were common in pre-made ones.

“Thank you, Luna,” he immediately answered after taking them from her and admiring them. “They are lovely.”

“They came from Neville’s garden,” she said, taking a seat and gesturing him to sit beside her. He obliged.

“Does Neville know?” Harry had to ask for Neville’s sake, not that his fellow Gryffindor would mind if Luna took a few (dozen) flowers from his garden.

“He gave them to me after Ron talked to him,” Luna answered airily. “Men are such horrible gossips,” she added and Harry just snorted in agreement.

“He mentioned that you are having an existential crisis,” she brought up so casually, catching Harry off-guard.

He wanted to be angry at her, at everyone who felt like it was their business to intervene. He could feel his ire rising, replacing his weariness and confusion. He almost wanted to be angry but then Luna said, “We care for you, Harry.”

And Harry knew that she has no reason to be here, she should be in Asia or something finding magical creatures that no one could see or believe in. Instead, here she was, offering flowers and company because everyone knew that even though Hermione’s intellect was unparreled, it was Luna who had wit beyond measure, who held answers to questions unanswered. Here she was because somehow, Ron found a way to contact her for Harry’s sake.

So, he tamped down his anger and breathed it out, a calming technique Luna taught him. It was strangely effective.

“I’m not supposed to be alive, Luna,” he uttered under his breath.

“Why not, Harry?” she asked, looking at him curiously. He pointedly stared away from her piercing gaze.

“I...died,” he whispered, like a dirty little secret. “Voldemort cast his favorite spell at me,” he said with a hollow chuckle, trying to keep himself from falling into further depression. And absolutely failing.

“And I took it head on. I-I had to,” he finished, not elaborating his reasons for doing so.

Luna understood this and didn’t ask for them.

Instead, she said, “So do flowers.”

Luna’s non sequitur shocked Harry out of his melancholy and he looked at her, who was avoiding his gaze while touching each petal of his bouquet with a gentle yet scarred hand.

“They are dead, from when I pulled them from their beds. They died to bring joy. To bring life.”

Then she looked up and pointed. Harry’s gaze followed to where her finger was pointing.

“When stars die in a grand explosion, which we call a supernova, they still shine on. They still guide us in when we are lost. They still give light to those in need of hope.”

Then she moved her hand to cup Harry’s cheek so his startled green eyes met her knowing grey eyes.

“You are not any different from them, Harry,” she said, cupping his cheek so his green eyes met her grey eyes.

“Though you may have died,” she said with no pity nor disbelief, stating it as a plain and simple fact. “You are still needed to give light. To give life.”

He pulled back from her, as if flinching in pain. “What are you saying, Luna?” he asked, agitated and disbelieving. “Teddy needs his parents. George needs his twin. So many people need their families whole and hale; and I’m just an orphan kid, who already lost his family several times over - my parents, Sirius.

“If you’re saying that I’m still alive because _I’m_ needed, then why are so many other people still dead even though they are _needed more_.”

Luna must have felt that he needed to speak his piece since she didn’t interrupt him. Though her cool grey eyes turned steely with every word he spoke.

“ _Are they?_ ” she asked, her tone lost its distinctive airy feel, sounding sharper and deadlier. A reminder that there was more to her that people often overlooked. That Harry mistakenly overlooked this time around, even though he was well aware of how dangerous she can be.

“Do you really think they are more needed, Harry? Do you think that their living again will give hope to a people who lost it long ago? Will their living again ensure that these families, broken by war and terror, will get their well-deserved reprieve?”

But before he could answer ( _“Yes!”_ ), she plowed on.

“Since they are not alive for me to compare, nor will they live again, I choose to believe that their lives will not make a difference. But _your life_ will. Your life _has_ changed so many lives, helped so many people.

“ _You_ are a beacon of hope. _You_ are a catalyst of change.

“You may not think of yourself as more important to others, Harry, and I am both thankful for your humility and sorry for enabling you to live under that misconception because _you are_. You are _a hero_ , Harry. And people like me, we need heroes.”

Harry, who was mesmerized by Luna’s speech, turned away from her earnest gaze. (Asking him to believe in her as she believed in him. Her faith in him was astouding that he almost cannot breathe because of its weight.)

“People are fickle, Luna. One moment, I’m a villain, a deranged boy, a _liar_ ,” his eyes tracing over his scarred hand, which still held onto his bouquet.“A few moments later, I’m their hero. I won’t be their hero for long, you’ll see.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry. No matter what others think or say, you will _always_ be a hero. And heroes always get their happy endings.”

“Will I really, Luna?” Disbelief colored his voice.

“Will you settle for anything less?” she asked him in return. Challenging him.

Well, there was only one answer for that. He was sorted in Gryffindor for a reason.

“No. I wouldn’t.” Challenge accepted.

**Author's Note:**

> drop by and say hi? [cole-lection](cole-lection.tumblr.com)


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